With the doctor ensconced in his leather chair, having explained how to proceed, the man lying on the couch begins:
The nose opens with caramel cake in an early psychoanalysis session…and the cake is dipped in … caramel. From Carmel, California! Caramel lassi. A charming lassie. Named Candy. Candied white asparagus, plaited into charming braids. On a charming lassie. Caramel lassi. Warmed with a touch of nutmeg in it and tulip petals strewn atop. Velvety petals. Velvet dal. Stewed …no, wait a velvet doll. A doll made out of dal. Which you eat when you are high. Or huffing. Heifers. Yeah, serious beefy undertones. Wagyu, grade 3. That bully Terrence shoving licorice up my nose in the third grade. The taste of anise all day long. Or is that menthol instead? Whatever it is, there’s also the surge of graphite in the mouth (Terrence also enjoyed trying to make me eat mechanical pencil lead). Hope he burns in hell. That’d be the right finish for him. A low-level sizzle, like white hot embers sprinkled onto a match surface. Embers to the side. Indirect heating. Smoking. Smoked paprika that you smoked by accident (and because Ray and his friend took the synthetic weed with them when they left the party). A ceremonial pipe smoked in 1970, leaving behind a beautiful tarry residue that lingers. Fingers. Meatiness without beef. Alternative jerky. Narwhal jerky. Dried in a tar-fired sauna. Seasoned with anise. And caramel.
On the scale of psychoanalytic techniques–
The Mortlach 20 Year Old is the analysis/interpretation of dreams–Freud called it “the royal road to the unconscious.” Compared to the messes that free association can sometimes produce, it’s a real winner.
–Our thanks to Mortlach for the sample!